Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. So while I was tempted to end this story here, the more intriguing part for me is the emotional fall-out. Stay tuned :)

He was there again, standing over her as she shivered uncontrollably.

She couldn't take this much longer.

She was trying to stay brave, trying to remember why she couldn't tell Doyle where Emily was.

There was a reason.

It was something about death.

Something.

Italy. Emily was in Italy. She lived in Florence above a small bread shop with blue curtains in the window and a green door. Twice a month, on Saturdays, Emily visited Ville de Colmar in France and checked messages for Patricia. If anything went wrong, if Emily felt anyone following her, Hungary was the backup location and she was supposed to send JJ a letter from Elaina.

She couldn't remember why she wasn't supposed to say.

But she knew Emily's life depended on it.

She also knew that as soon as Doyle found Emily, he would finally kill her while he focused Emily.

Unfortunately, the latter was beginning to seem far more enticing.

"Drink." Doyle commanded her, holding a cup up to her dry cracked lips as he drew her from her thoughts. She had little choice but to swallow, wincing as the warm liquid poured down her sore and bruised throat.

Her head throbbed.

The pain in her wrist was unbearable.

Her skin felt as if it was being poked by a million tiny needles.

Her ribs howled in absolute torture.

She was acutely aware of every pain, every bruise, every broken bone—though it scared her slightly that she couldn't remember how each of them happened.

All she knew was that she was in pain.

Unbelievable pain.

"Make it stop." She begged softly, unable to stop the pathetic plea from escaping her lips.

He pulled out another syringe, holding it out to her.

Tantalizing her.

She reached for it quickly, desperate to make the pain stop.

He chuckled, pulling the syringe just out of her reach. "Tell me where she is and this is yours."

A choked defeated sob escaped her lips.

She had tried.

She had tried so hard.

But she needed this to all go away.

She needed to forget.

Or remember, whichever the case may be.

But the thought of betraying Emily, of sending one of her closest friends—a friend that was far more like a sister—to certain death was too much.

Even for JJ's drugged and broken mind.

"She's in Iceland." JJ lied, picking the first country that came to her mind other than France, Italy, or Hungary.

Maybe it was because she was still so cold. Though, she vaguely remembered that Iceland wasn't cold. It was Greenland that was cold. Iceland was green, Greenland was cold. She tried to stop her rambling mind, focusing on the one thing that was important.

She had to get that syringe.

Doyle frowned at her, as if not certain whether to believe her. Iceland seemed far too close to his own home for Lauren to willingly hide there.

But maybe that was the point: hiding in plain sight. That was just like Lauren.

He handed the syringe over to the blonde, chuckling as she snatched it out of his hands. She reused the tourniquet from before and he smiled at the absolutely broken woman in front of him as she plunged the liquid into her own veins with a sigh of relief.

Maybe he should take a picture and show Lauren the consequences of her actions.

He turned, fully intent to have his many resources scour the small country for the woman who deserved nothing more than hell itself.

Glancing back at the woman huddled in the corner, he wondered if he should keep her friend alive long enough to join her.

Shutting the door tightly behind him, he looked around in surprise to see the two guards he had with him slumped over slightly with blood dripping from their obviously dead bodies. His surprise was only momentary as he saw the woman he had been waiting for standing elegantly in the corner with her gun down at her side.

"Miss me Ian?" Emily Prentiss spat angrily, ignoring the two dead men in the room as if they were simply decor.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Ian chuckled. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd come for me this quickly."

"You kidnapped my best friend." She wiped the corner of her mouth slowly, dramatically elongating their conversation. "You had to know I would come for her."

Ian snorted. "Honestly I was pretty sure you'd let her suffer." He admitted, seething with anger at the sight of her calmly standing in front of him instead of cowering in fear like the bitch she was. "Just like you left me to rot in North Korea."

"You were a killer. She is my friend." Emily flung out the distinction easily, ignoring that they both knew better.

Now wasn't the time to get caught up in old relationships.

Now was the time to fix the greatest mistake in her life.

"Some friend." He scoffed, delighted to have some information to destroy the woman before him. "She just told me you were in Iceland." He waited for the shock of hurt and betrayal to wash over her and was a little surprised when it didn't.

Instead, Emily grinned. "She lied."

Doyle frowned, "I thought the blonde would be easier to break. Turns out I should have taken Aaron." He grinned softly. "Or maybe I should have started with either of their little boys."

They stared at one another for a second, waiting for the other to make a move.

Doyle lunged for a gun leaning precariously close to the door he had just closed, but Emily was far faster, leveling two shots easily square at his chest and a third to his groin for good measure.

At the sound of the shots, the team and dozens more FBI Agents swarmed into the building, but Emily was already pushing open the heavy metal door as Derek and Hotch came up beside her to help fling the door open quickly.

The trio entered the room together ignoring the sweltering hot air within the locked room, clearing it quickly in case of more hidden operatives. Emily tucked her gun into the back of her pants as she saw her friend, broken, bleeding, and dangerously trembling on the ground.

"JJ!" Emily cried, at the other woman's side in less than a second. "JJ we're here."

Vaguely, the blonde felt something calling to her through the thick cloud that dulled all of her senses while allowing her to soar unfettered by the pain that had consumed her earlier.

Was this what it felt like to die?

She hoped so.

"We've got her!" A voice barely penetrated the fog in her mind. "Down here."

She forced her eyes to open slowly, wishing that whoever was at her side would just leave her alone.

At the sight of the dark haired woman, looking down at her with caring loving eyes, JJ felt a sob erupt within her.

She had failed.

She thought she had been careful. She thought she hadn't cracked yet.

But she must have made a mistake.

"Shh," Emily soothed, "It's okay. We're here."

"No!" JJ cried hysterically, her words jumbling on top of themselves as she tried pushing Emily away with what little force she had left, "I tried, but I killed you."

Emily looked at her friend, stunned. "I'm okay JJ." She assured.

"I killed you." JJ sobbed, distraught that yet another failure was added to the long list of her own ineptitudes.

Hotch gingerly pushed Emily aside, lifting JJ easily into his arms. Intellectually, he knew he should wait until the building was cleared to get the medics in to take care of her.

Realistically, he didn't care.

And he was worried that there just wasn't enough time.

JJ was nearly delirious as he started stepping slowly out of the room, murmuring softly with every step. "So sorry. I'm so sorry." She muttered, not surprised to feel herself flying. "Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Hotch assured her, trying not to notice the way her ripped and torn clothes barely clung to her.

She murmured softly, clinging tightly to him though he was semi-certain she didn't really know he was there.

"It's going to be okay JJ." He promised, fighting the familiar feeling of uncertainty that had been his constant companion for the last five days. "It will be okay." He repeated.

At least he hoped so.